Bum Ass
Last week I tore a strip off some teenage lads in a public swimming pool (a swimming pool, yes, although not as you know them; Aberdeen’s public swimming pools are 1C away from ice rinks). My Victor Meldewesque admonishing was in response to extreme swearing in front of my kids.
“Hoy there!” I said shouting a phrase that is universally only used when chastising teenagers, ”That’s enough of that!” (ditto), “Not in front of wee kids, eh?”
The effing and jeffing momentarily stopped and later, as the boys were being turfed out of the pool by similarly aged attendants for stabbing small children with metal forks that they had secreted in their Speedos (true!), I smirked in their direction with a “that’ll learn ya!” self satisfied smirk. They hadn’t seen me get out of the glorious Mini, so my paintwork couldn’t be associated with me and my middle-aged finger waving ways.
Later, I was telling the story to a friend and I realised that my kids and their associates have come out with their own choice phrases on their own, and didn’t need any coaching from teenagers. Some of it possibly in response to hearing other family members (not me, just my Mum and my husband*)slip the odd colourful phrase out.
Here’s some absolute beauties:
Junior Misssy
Situation: On being assaulted by a jumping Black Menace whilst sat on the sofa minding her own business.
Phrase: “Fuxsake Sonny!! Get down!”
That was last year. I blame her father.
Darling Curly Niece
Situation: Called her Dad this a couple of weeks ago in a fit of rage.
Phrase: “You hairy bum-ass. You worm licking bum-ass!”**
Indy
My two year old (but now 10 year old) toddling son shouted “Bloody flies!” as a bluebottle bombed its way into the kitchen one summer; a hall mark catchphrase of his dishtowel wielding gran.
Jnr. Misssy’s chum
Then last week, I asked my daughter’s friend why they didn’t have their Jack Russell anymore. “Because he’s a complete pain in the arse,” she said very matter or factly, like she was discussing a canine medical condition.
Small party guest with Tourette’s Syndrome
A small boy from my daughter’s nursery class stole the show last year when my husband did his, now legendary, magic show at Junior Misssy’s birthday party. Already reeling from another boy’s heckle of “You’re not magic!” Meeester was verbally assaulted by a small blond boy who, apropos of nothing, shouted “You’ve got shitty shoes!”. And then once the adults in the room did a “Did you just hear what I just heard?” glanceathon, he piped up, “You’ve got shit on your shoes” as if to clarify his initial statement. Aside from this slander( Meeester patently did not have shit on his shoes. In fact, I doubt he was wearing any shoes, as this would be a breach of our “No Shoe Policy”) it was the randomness of his comments that surprised me most.
In consideration of all the above infant transgressions, I feel an apology coming on to the fork wielding ASBO dodging orators of Inverurie Swimming Pool. Ah…nope, the feeling’s gone…yes, that’s it…. it’s away now. I’m fine. As you were.
*(Y’see I say that because I know my Mum reads the Misssives. Bet you a tenner she’s called me on the phone before she even gets to this bit!)
** This is now my favourite phrase of all time. You wait, you’ll be calling someone a “Bum-ass” too before the week’s out. It’s for times when “bum” or “ass” just aren’t enough on their own.
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